


Earth

by Trickster_Angel



Series: Sense [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Gen, Season 8 Episode 23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster_Angel/pseuds/Trickster_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Castiel falls unconscious, he inhales the scent of earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earth

He can smell the earth. 

It’s his first sense to return, and he inhales deeply, nostrils filling with the smell of wet dirt and dying trees and decaying leaves.

He can feel crumpled leaves in his left hand. Dead leaves, right near his head, his nose filled with the smell of their deterioration. He squeezes his hand closed, makes a fist, and listens to the leaves crunch. It sounds far away, as if someone was approaching him and stepping on leaves with heavy boots. But no one is around, he crunched the leaves, and there’s something wrong.

Castiel, angel of the lord, opens his eyes slowly, and takes in his surroundings. He is amazed at how dull the world looks.  The colors are muted, not as badly as they were in Purgatory, but enough that it’s noticeable. When he first took a human vessel, he was amazed at his senses, but he feels numb now, lying in the dirt, barely able to see or hear. But the scent of the forest he lays in surrounds him and almost overwhelms him.

Why is he here again?

As soon as he moves, the shock hits him. Everything hurts. Worse than being stabbed or shot is this pain. Castiel feels as though he is bruised all over.  He looks over to his left hand, which he expects to be blue and purple but it is still the same pale shade it was when he fell unconscious.

Why was he unconscious?

The phantom pain at the base of his neck reminds him. His wrists remember the feel of the cuffs. He was strapped to that chair again. Only it wasn’t Naomi, no, she was dead. Stabbed in the head by her own contraption. The same thing she used to torture Castiel and Metatron. Right, Metatron killed her.

Metatron, Metatron cut his neck. Metatron held a vial to his throat and took his grace. Metatron banished him to earth. Castiel’s lungs constrict. His heart beats faster. He is human. And everything that makes him human is killing him.

He breathes as deeply as possible, trying to force the air into his lungs. He has to breathe. He is human. _Human._

Castiel struggles to his feet, ignoring the ache of his limbs. He has to leave, to find Sam and Dean.  They can help him. No matter what he did, they always helped him.

Where are they?

They aren’t here so Castiel leaves. The trees rustle in the wind as he makes his way through the dense forest. He looks to the sky but the tall trees block his view. He won’t be able to see it here. Thick branches whack his arms as he slowly, too slowly, makes his way through.

The wind picks up and Castiel knows what’s coming. But he has to see it. He needs to be there when it happens. He walks faster and then starts to jog lightly until eventually he reaches a clearing. He slows down and walks until he stands in the middle of the field. The trees are parted and he can so clearly see the black sky. There are no stars. The moon is hidden behind thick clouds. It is so dark and cold and Castiel stares and waits for what he knows is coming.

He doesn’t wait long. Within seconds, he sees them. Shooting stars rocket out from behind the clouds and fall to earth at impossible speeds. Castiel can feel his heart climb into his throat. It stops his breathing and he watches.

With his human eyes, his deep blue human eyes, it is impossible for Castiel to make out the actual figures of the angels. But he knows that that is what these shooting stars are; angels being thrown out of heaven because of his mistake. White and orange lights streak across the sky. Every angel is losing their grace, their beautiful wings being burned away, because of him.

Castiel stands in the middle of a field, the smell of earth surrounding him, and he cries. Before he realizes it is happening, before he can stop them from escaping, crystal tears rain on his face as the first angels smack the ground.

If he hadn’t listened to Metatron, if he hadn’t killed that innocent girl, if he hadn’t taken the cupid’s bow, or gone back to Naomi, then the angels would be safe, still with their grace and he would be still be with his own grace, still be an angel.

Castiel has known what it is like to be broken. But that was nothing compared to this pain, the feeling of his heart ripping in two so loudly that even his human ears can hear it. He is screaming but he can’t make a sound. The only indications of his despair are the tears running down his face. 

If he could see past his mistake right now, he would know that Dean is human, and Dean is one of the strongest people he knows. If Dean can go to Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory without being broken, while still being able to stay Dean, regardless of what happened, then he can live on earth, he can deal with the smell of decaying leaves and his physical weakness and the loss of his powers, because he knows that Sam and Dean will be there for him.

But Castiel cannot see past his mistake right now. He knows only that he can’t jump in time and he can’t teleport and he can’t summon an angel blade. He isn’t immortal and no god is going to save him if he dies again.  He is human, he is normal, and he is crying, as he watches the angels become just like him, because of him.

It’s always his fault. Every time he tries to do something good, something bad happens. He helps to stop the apocalypse and heaven is thrown into chaos. He raises Sam from the pit and Sam spends over a year on Earth soulless. He takes the souls from Purgatory and releases the Leviathans on Earth, leaving Sam, Dean, and Bobby to clean up his mess. It is his fault that Bobby is dead. He fixes Sam’s madness and becomes mad himself. He helps to kill Roman and he and Dean become trapped in Purgatory. He leaves, for Dean’s own sake and loses his trust.

And now, for the sake of the angels he was going to close the gates of Heaven. Even if that meant that they would kill him, he was alright with that. But Metatron tricked him and now, the angels fall as streaks of white and yellow and orange, dotting the sky like stars. (Make a wish.)

Castiel’s guilt is suffocating him.

This feeling is pure, unaltered sorrow, and it’s killing him.

The wind whips his hair and coat and the cold sinks into his bones but he doesn’t move. This type of pain is a paralytic. Castiel can’t move. He can’t raise a hand to hide his tears. He can’t walk away. He can’t turn his head. He just stares at the mass of angels being forced from their home. And cries.

As if he hadn’t failed enough, Castiel can still remember Dean’s voice ringing in his head, panicked and angry, “Castiel!” He wants to go to Dean, wants find out why he is panicked, why he is angry, why he was screaming his full name. Did Sam complete the trial? Is he dead? Did Crowley escape?

Every possible situation for Dean screaming his name rushes into his head and the tears continue to fall. Long after the last angels crash into the cold earth, Castiel watches the sky and cries.  For a while, he is unsure of why. The banishment of the angels, his lost grace, the desperation in Dean’s voice calling his name, his helplessness, his inability to sense anything except for the overpowering scent of leaves and trees and dirt, maybe none of these but maybe all of these are the reason for the red trails running down his face.

He feels as though he is on fire. He can feel his sin burning him and tearing him apart. He deserves this grief, this pain, this despair, for what he has done. Angels don’t sleep but he wishes for this to be some kind of nightmare, because he is incapable of dealing with this.  He is positive that he is unable to bare this kind of grief. No one should ever have to feel this immense pain.

Castiel stays into the night, crying to the sky. He would pray, but he doesn’t know who to pray to.  What god would watch his children fall; what god would allow his children to be tricked into falling? Castiel can’t believe in a god. He hasn’t in a while, but this only reaffirms it.

Castiel stands frozen in the field until his legs shake with fatigue and he knows that he has to either leave or collapse. The tears have run themselves dry. His eyes sting from the wind. He knows now that it is time to leave.  On aching legs, he walks out of the forest, desperate to find Dean and Sam. He is shaking with the cold and he doesn’t understand how humans manage to be so resilient.

He walks for longer than he wants to remember, stumbling like a drunk because of how tired he is. He wraps his arms around himself because of the chill in the wind. His shoes crunch dead leaves and all he can smell is the scent of the forest.

Amazingly, Metatron left him close to the church. It is outlined against the blackness of the sky, almost eerie in the dark. Sam and Dean are both outside, presumably because Crowley is still trapped inside. Sam is asleep inside the Impala and Dean stands staring at the sky, as if he expects one more light to blaze across his field of view and then disappear again.

“Dean,” Castiel says and his exhaustion is poured out in that one word.  The hunter turns his head, green eyes focused on the now human angel and quietly says, “Son of a bitch.”

He knows that he must look horrendous. His eyes feel sore and puffy from crying and his face must be streaked with the trails of tears. His coat must be covered in dirt and bits of leaves. He assumes that he literally looks like he crawled up from hell. If only he could be so fortunate as to escape this hell.

Castiel feels as though he is going to collapse and Dean sees that because as Castiel’s knees give out, Dean is at his side, supporting him.

“It’s okay Cas,” Dean says and Castiel finally feels his first positive human emotion: relief. It pours through his veins and runs into his brain, making him lightheaded. It flows through his sore muscles and they all relax.

The wind rushes past the two men and Castiel can hear leaves crackle as they tumble on the road. Dean is saying something to him, but he can’t make out the words. He is so tired and his senses are shutting down.

As Castiel falls unconscious, he inhales the scent of earth. 


End file.
